


Shards

by Lillian_Shepherd



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AUs - Canon, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Comic book 'death', Dubious Science, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:49:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18764908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillian_Shepherd/pseuds/Lillian_Shepherd
Summary: *Spoiler Alert*Steve knew that his mission to return the Infinity Stones (plus Mjolnir) was not going to be straightforward. What he did not expect was for it to go wrong the instant he emerged from the Quantum Realm, and he could never have anticipated the reason why.





	1. Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Note that this story is canon compliant to everything seen on screen, but not to Word of God and all secondary canon. In particular, there is nothing here about the Infinity Stones that is not canon somewhere in the Multiverse.
> 
> Not beta'd. Please tell me if you find spelling mistakes (that are not differences between British and US spelling - I use the former) or typos or anything that isn't American usage. I am also open to someone pointing out plot holes. If you find them, I will fix them. I expect this fic to be fairly short.

Steve's heart was pounding as he waited for Bruce to open the tunnel to the Quantum Realm. The case containing the Infinity Stones was heavy in one hand, Mjolnir light as a feather in the other. Steve kept his eyes on Bruce, not wanting to look at either Bucky or Sam, in case either made an instinctive mental leap to figure out his plan. It was an effort to respond to their banter, but he forced himself to answer in kind.

He wasn't sure what he would do if they figured it out and tried to stop him.

_Tony would have known. He could always read me when he thought I was in the wrong. Well, Mjolnir isn't judging me harshly._

He had been surprised when the hammer had slapped into his palm, signalling that he continued to be worthy of it.

"This should be returned to Asgard," Thor had said. "Its absence would also split the time stream. Besides," he added brightly, "you may need it. And I have Stormbreaker now."

It was humbling.

Thor had lost everything, yet he was giving away the greatest symbol of what he had been. A broken – no, shattered – god, he was fleeing into space to escape the guilt of what he had let happen to the Nine Realms. He had also been Steve's last reason to stay with the Avengers.

_Oh, Nat. Tony—_

He thought he'd known what was right. "A good man," Erskine had said and he'd clung to the words, seen himself as the hero. That belief had been swept away by Tony's tirade.

"We don't trade lives," he'd said, as if this could make it so. "The safest hands are our own."

So, ignoring him, Natasha had given her life for the Soul Stone, for Clint and the Dusted and who was to say she was wrong.

That hurt, desperately. But not as much as what Tony had done. Tony who had everything to lose – his wife, his daughter, his home, his friends – had willingly sacrificed himself to save the people of the universe from a second Snap.

It was plain who had been the better man. What's more, he'd had the last word.

"I am Iron Man."

_Oh, God, Tony._

It was better this way. Better than facing a world in mourning for its hero, and certainly than facing Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, Spider-man or, worst of all, Morgan, ever again...

Not for the first time, Steve tapped the edge of the device on his wrist, the controller that Tony had conjured from equations and theories and made time travel possible almost overnight. He watched as heavy green-tinged fingers pushed the switches.

And he was flying forward into the depths of the Quantum Realm.

 

It was the presence of someone else, someone familiar, that Tony noticed first. Until then he had floated, content, in the strange orange light; now, though, the light shifted colour, more yellow than red. Suddenly, he was reading patterns; emotion, algorithms... thoughts...

_Thoughts?_

Memories came flooding back.

Before, he had been dreaming, content, if not thinking was contentment – but now he knew he was not alone. Recognition followed.

_"Nat? Miss me?"_

He had meant to say it aloud, but that didn't seem possible. Nor was it a name, but a broadcast of recognition.

The response was slow in coming. _"...Tony? But I'm dead."_

That memory was clear at least.

_So am I. Thinking dead, not walking dead, apparently. I can't be a zombie without a body._

And how could he think at all if he did not have a brain, a mind?

_Not the Tin Man but the Scarecrow._

_Not a brain, but a mind, at least._

_The Mind Stone._

The world had been orange. Now it was orange and yellow.

_So, Soul and Mind, not just the Mind Stone._

And now the not-sky, not-lake were streaked with flashes of other colours, first red, then blue, then purple and finally green.

Together.

_"Nat, it's the Infinity Stones. All six of them."_

There was shock and fear in her response. _The gauntlet?_

That same fear was already clouding his thoughts, though he had no heart to beat faster, no hormones to trigger a panic attack, only the memory of dreadful pain as the Infinity Gauntlet burned his flesh, seared it to the bone.

_"No!"_

Surely no one had been fool enough to put the stones together in a Gauntlet – and the ones on Earth had been destroyed in one or other of the Snaps, including his. Everyone on that battlefield knew better, knew to keep the stones separate before they were returned to the moment and place from which they had been removed.

_Ha! Shutting the barn door after the entire Derby field had bolted. But is that why the gems are coming together now? How many alternate timelines have we created anyway? The safest course would be to keep the stones separate, sending a team back with each gem? It isn't as if they're short of Pym particles with Hank around._

_I bet that's what's happening, though. I can't leave the Avengers on their own for more than a few days until someone fucks up. Cap, probably_

_Or is it weeks? Years?_

_Let's try to find out._

He reached out to the gems, felt the links between them, the power than ran through them and through him. 

There was something else.

_"Nat, the stones are travelling in the Quantum Realm – and so are we._

That made their imprisonment even more unfortunate.

_Once we're out of the QR, the stones will be separated again. It might be our only chance. We have to be ready._

_"Reach for me, Nat, with heart and mind because we don't have anything else. Use the Force, girl. Picture us the way you would a target. Hold that together, and if I can just contact the Stones..."_

When that contact was made the shock was almost as painful as putting on the Infinity Gauntlet. What was more, he sensed something else, deep within the Soul Stone's heart, alert and inimical.

It had woken at his touch.

He withdrew hurriedly, but evil and terrible, it reached out, searching for him.

Fear, as dreadful as that when he had faced Thanos, had him in his grip. His contact with the stones began to slip.

 _It's just in my mind_ he told himself. _The stones can't hurt me. I have no nerve receptors. There can be no pain._

Summoning all of his will, he shoved the pain and fear to the back of his mind, making himself think clearly. It wasn't only his consciousness that was at stake, but Natasha's.

_"When I give the word, Nat, think yourself into being. Think me into being. I'll help..."_

But it might be too late. The thing in the stone was coming closer. It knew where they were...

Tony slid into the awareness of the Time Stone, pleading it with it to stretch out the seconds, caught up the Power Stone's energy, found the Reality Stone which flared as it emerged from the Quantum Realm.

_"Now, Nat!"_

He flung them outwards, willing them into Reality with all his fear and hope, willing all the might of the Power and Space stones to strike at the evil on their heels...

 

Even as Stark Tower on that fateful day in 2012 materialised about Steve, the case exploded in his hand, a rainbow flash hurling him across the wrecked lobby, his shoulder burning as if Tony's arc reactor had embedded itself there.

He just had a moment to realise that something had gone horribly wrong before he crashed to the floor and lost consciousness...

 

Tony hit the floor hard on hands and knees, a sharp pain in his chest, a weight pressing down on his back: all welcome because they meant he was alive. A quick glance upwards told him he was on Earth, in the shattered reception area of Stark Tower and not on a godforsaken planet like Vormir, Morag or, heaven help him, Titan.

The stones – well, five of them – were present in his mind, but the menace was gone, and the Soul Stone... well, wherever that was, it didn't matter any longer.

So, maybe he could still use their own powers to send them their appointed places. In a moment it was done: Mind and Time pushed by Space to places he had seen, knew.

He let them go without regret.

The weight on his back was resolving itself into a warm person, maybe human, probably female to judge by what were probably breasts squashed against his back, and his nose brought him the scent of leather and a familiar perfume.

Then the weight lifted away abruptly, without any apparent effort and he was treated to the pleasant sight of shapely black-clad legs taking up a fighting stance.

He lifted his eyes and, of course, it was Natasha. 

The relief was profound.

It was followed closely by shock, for this was a Natasha he had not expected to see, not the lean fighter, hair tightly bound, grief and worry lining her face, her eyes always suspicious.

No, this was the Natasha he had first met, red curls falling about her shoulders, her face younger and deceptively serene.

For a moment he panicked, thinking he might be facing the time-contemporary Natasha, but he reminded himself sharply that this was not how she had looked during the Battle of New York.

Meanwhile, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, probably at his expression and she turned her head to look for her reflection in what remained of the glass wall. One perfectly plucked eyebrow lifted. "Is this how you think of me, Stark?

"You looked really cute then, Romanoff. I told Pep..." His voice faltered, and he cursed himself. "I told Pepper I wanted a Natalie Rushman of my very, very own."

"I wondered why she kept glaring at me," Natasha replied, holding out a hand to haul him to his feet. "And you need to take a look at how you see yourself."

He followed her eyes to the cracked and starred glass, and his hand started to move to the arc reactor on – in? — no, resting – on his chest, then stilled. His breathing was easy, deep, unrestricted despite the second of panic. But that, he guessed wasn't what Natasha had been talking about; instead, that would be that his hair was as dark as it had been that day in 2012, without a hint of grey, and he looked thirty or less rather than the forty-two he had been then, his face untouched by pain and stress.

Even as he stared the armour flowed out from the arc reactor and embraced him. Though this was far more advanced, the look of it was close enough to the 2012 Iron Man armours to pass muster at a distance.

_Save to current me, of course._

"But how come we're here – in Stark Tower – presumably at the aftermath of the Battle of New York—?" Natasha asked.

"Hell!" Tony looked wildly about him. "The Infinity Stones – some people – Avengers – must have been carrying them here!"

_How could I have forgotten that?_

A body wearing one of the white and red suits he had built for travel in the Quantum Realm was sprawled on the floor twenty feet away. From here he could see its neatly coifed fair hair.

_No!_

But Natasha was already running.

Tony was right behind her as she skidded to a stop and fell on her knees beside Captain America – their Captain America – reaching to feel for a pulse in his neck.

 _What the hell, Rogers?_ was what Tony thought. What he did was activate the sensors in his suit so that Natasha's relieved, "He's alive," was no surprise.

Nor was her, "For God's sake, Stark, did you have to try to kill him?"

_Nope. Not since Siberia._

"I didn't expect the explosion," Tony protested. "In fact, I don't even know how it happened."

"How about everything you touch explodes?"

"Not me. The stones—"

"Where are the stones?" Natasha sounded alarmed.

It was a rather important question.

There was a handle clutched in Steve's hand and a case had presumably been attached to it. 

_Trust Spangly Pants to hang on to the useless part._

"Look after Cap for a minute, Nat. I have some stones to find." Tony was already on his way. 

It wasn't difficult to find the case: it was lying on the floor, shredded. It was only as he bent over it that he realised was that it was made of vibranium steel.

_Way to go, Tony. Didn't know the stones could break that._

Three stones still sat in the pockets built into the foam interior of the case – Red and Purple and Blue, Reality and Power and Space. Good. The two that he had sent onward had gone, though whether he had sent them into the correct position and time was uncertain.

He reached out with improvised tongs made out of suit nanites, and shifted the remaining stones into pockets precisely sized for them he had formed within the armour.

But where the hell was the Soul Stone?

"Tony! Tony, come here!" Natasha's call was urgent.

Suddenly afraid for Steve, Tony abandoned the idea of any search for the missing stone and ran.

"Is he okay?"

Natasha ignored the question and, instead, pointed to the object half hidden by the shield and Steve's curled body. "Is that Thor's hammer?"

Tony nodded. "Yes."

 _"Steve_ has Thor's hammer?"

"Yes."

She took a deep, steadying breath and said, mildly, "Well, I guess he's the only one of us likely to be worthy. But how in all the hells of Asgard are we going to move him?"

Tony had to stop himself whistling in admiration at her successful attempt at cool. "As he said himself, an elevator would go up, even though it wasn't worthy. Let's see if we can get the loop of the hammer's thong through his belt."

As they worked, Natasha asked, "Do you have the stones?"

"Three of 'em. I sent the Mind and Time Stones back to where they should be right now. If hadn't been for Thanos's horned minion I could have put the space stone back—" 

"How? How did you manage that?"

"I dunno. Something to do with me holding an Infinity Gauntlet when I, you know, died."

"Stop whining, Tony," but Natasha was looking at him with unusual fondness. She frowned. "So you sent two stones to their rightful place, you have three..."

"Reality, Space and Power," Tony said helpfully.

"So what happened to the other one – the Soul Stone – the one I fought Clint over, the one on that hell planet—?"

"Vormir."

"We were trapped in it," Tony said. "Maybe untrapping ourselves caused the explosion."

"So where is it?"

Tony had been scanning for the Soul Stone since he had known it was missing. Now he made a wide gesture at the floor. "Look around you. See the splinters, and dust. That's the Soul Stone. Apparently us breaking loose destroyed it."

_And let's hope that thing inside it is gone too._

He had picked up half a dozen of the larger splinters when an achingly familiar voice spoke from the air, "Iron Man, Ms Rushman, I suggest you vacate the premise and take your friend with you. I have disabled the elevators temporarily."

Tony decided to take this in stride, and limited his reaction to a raised eyebrow and a deep breath. "How long do we have, JARVIS?" And, if his eyes were pricking with tears, he was not going to let them fall.

"I estimate eleven minutes and forty-eight seconds, sir."

"What about the elevator to my – the private garage?"

"It will be working for you. But many of the streets are blocked."

"See if you can plot us a clear path to Bleecker Street. Nat, grab the shield." Using the armour's strength, Tony lifted Steve into a fireman's carry. The dangling hammer made it awkward, but not impossible.

"Bleecker Street? Strange's place?" Natasha asked.

"From what Bruce said, it's somewhere we might find help, or at least catch our breath."

 

As the elevator travelled down to the garage, JARVIS said: "I admit to a certain amount of curiosity. Are you from the past or the future? Or from another reality?"

"Right at this moment I wish I knew," Tony admitted. "But, believe me, we mean no harm, whether we've been playing in our own timeline or not."

Natasha had been examining the shield. "There's a hole in this. It's very small, but there."

"That's worrying. Take a look at Steve for me." Tony shifted a shoulder downwards so that Natasha could see Steve's back at eye level.

"There's a hole in his suit, just below the scapula. A little blood. Not currently bleeding. I would judge it didn't hit anything vital."

"JARVIS?"

"My scans find no significant injury. They also find no trace of shrapnel in your chest."

Heroically, Tony held his tongue.

"Or in that of the older Tony Stark who has now vanished."

Tony knew exactly what JARVIS was asking. He took a deep breath, let it out, and shook his head. 

"Sir, please." 

_Always looking out for me._

He made his decision. "There's a bio-engineer called Helen Cho," he said. "Keep an eye on her career and arrange a meeting when you think the time is right."

_I wish that is what I'd done._

"Thank you, Sir." JARVIS's voice was as serious as Tony had ever heard it.

The elevator doors slid open.

To Tony's relief, the garage was pretty much intact and, even more importantly, empty of human life. "We'll take the black SUV and hope people mistake us for the Feds. Jay, open the key safe and—"

_To hell with it._

"—do you want to load a copy of your main program into my suit and come along for the ride?"

"There cannot be enough memory or processing pow—" For the first time ever, JARVIS broke off in mid-complaint. "Sir, I— Is this the future of technology?"

"Sort of. You gonna hop aboard?"

"Indeed, Sir. Loading now."

 

The pain woke Steve. It was deep under his shoulder, burning cold and angry, demanding his attention despite other aches that suggested he had gone several rounds with the Hulk.

He was lying flat on rear seat in a moving vehicle, wrapped in a soft blanket.

Opening his eyes a slit, he could see the back of the driver and passenger seats, though very little of their occupants. Night was falling and, through the windshield, he could see little that wasn't caught in the headlight beams. 

At least the buildings he could see looked like a pre-Snap American city. As he'd been heading for New York in 2012 he could presume that was where he was. Given a second look, it seemed vaguely familiar; Greenwich Village, maybe?

Wait, wait. The stones. Where were the Infinity Stones? Oh God, had he failed at the very start of his mission?

The sound of a police siren tore through the silence. Steve could see the lights in the rear view mirror without lifting his head.

The case containing the stone had gone, he didn't know where his shield was, but Mjolnir would come when called. Cautiously, he flexed his fingers – and they brushed the hammer's distinctive hilt.

Whoever was sitting up front, they had confidence that amounted to arrogance. They'd be sorry for that.

At least he had a weapon, and the means to get out of here.

He slid his right hand across to his left wrist, careful not to disturb the blanket. He could just disappear into the Quantum Realm and—

His wrist was bare. 

The vehicle had stopped in response to the sirens and two cops were hotfooting it towards them. Steve hurriedly closed his eyes and tried to make himself smaller, nudging the hammer until the blanket covered it, but closing his hand around the handle.

The arrival of the cops might give him a chance to break out, but until he knew where the controller and the stones were it might be too much of a risk.

Unless the police did his job for him.

There was a sound of a window winding down and he could see the back of the driver's head as he leant towards it.

"Hi. I didn't think we could break the speed limit in these conditions."

It was Tony's voice.

For one moment Steve was flooded with joy, his heart picking up speed as he clutched Mjolnir even tighter – but it couldn't be _his_ Tony, even if he'd ever had the right to think of Tony as his—

Through his panic he remembered that there was at least one other Tony Stark here in New York right now, supposedly about to share shawarma with the rest of the newly-formed Avengers. Was this a result of their intervention? The other possibility, that a version of Tony had been diverted during his and Steve's previous visit to this time was, if anything, an even worse possibility.

_We can't change the past, but we might have created a new timeline, and I could be in that. Jesus, what should I do?_

He had missed the part of the conversation with the cops, but it was plainly not a confrontation. One of the patrolmen was apologising for stopping them. "Guess the curfew doesn't apply to you, Mr Stark."

"We have authorisation from SHIELD."

 _No, no, no, no, no._ Because that was Natasha's voice.

The Natasha from his time had gone straight to Vormir with Clint, and only he, Tony, Scott and Bruce had been here in New York. 

So this must be this time's Natasha and this time's Tony.

And he couldn't – wouldn't – hurt either of them.

"Not sure how we'd stop you going ahead even if you hadn't," one of the cops was saying. "Besides what you did for us all today, I might owe you a personal debt."

"Might?" Tony asked, with mild curiosity.

"My nephew says you saved his life during that fracas at the Stark Expo a while back. Not sure whether he's making it up. He's just a kid, his parents are dead, and you were already his hero."

If Steve's hearing hadn't been so sensitive, he wouldn't have heard Tony's sharp intake of breath, and if he hadn't spent so many years listening to the man talk he wouldn't have recognised the catch of emotion in his voice as he said, "War Machine and I saved a lot of people that night."

"Well, maybe he was mistaken. All the same, I know you don't normally sign autographs, but he'd be over the moon—"

There was an odd, strangely stricken note in his voice as Tony said, completely against his practice. "Um – sure. Nat, could you get me a pen and pad out of the glove box, please. I'll write a personal message for your nephew, Officer...?"

"Parker. Ben Parker. The boy's called Peter. This is real good of you, Mr Stark."

"No problem." Tony was scribbling on the pad. Not just his name, then, but a personal message. He tore the paper from the pad, folded it, and handed it to Parker. "Look after him."

"I sure will. Thank you again, Mr Stark."

The window rolled up and Tony let out a shuddering breath.

"Are you okay?" Natasha asked.

"I'm fine." It was Tony's standard answer. "Let's get moving before Steve wakes up."

_Steve? How can they know who I am? They should, if anything, think I'm Loki. Though I'm not sure if he could hold my shape if he was unconscious. None of this makes any sense at all._

It was only then that he put the two names together.

_Peter Parker. Peter Parker as in 'Queens'? Spider-man? But he won't be Spider-man for years, and Tony didn't – couldn't know... None of this makes any sense._

Maybe he'd better just lie low for a while, let the serum heal his injuries, and learn all he could before deciding what to do.

Who was he kidding? He wanted to stay close to Tony and Nat.

_Sure. Great tactics. This Natasha hardly knows me at all, and Tony has no time for the Captain America he does know. How stupid can you get?_

_Guess I'll find out._


	2. Sanctum

It was the car jolting to a stop that woke Steve from his half-doze. 

"This is the place," Tony's voice said. "Looks like it wasn't touched by the battle." 

"Guess it's magic," Natasha replied. "Sorcerers live in style. That's one hell of a Victorian mansion." 

"You should see my Mom and Dad's old place. Makes this look like a Staten Island studio." 

"Starks always go large." There was laughter hidden in Natasha's voice though you would have had to know her well to hear it. "I saw your Malibu mansion, remember?" 

"Impressed, were you?" 

"I could say something about over compensating—" 

"But you wouldn't." 

"Don't be too sure of that." 

Their banter, insults disguising affection, twisted Steve's gut. He hadn't thought, from their attitude during the Battle of New York, that they had reached this level of understanding and trust. Natasha hadn't mentioned Tony during their partnership in Washington, hadn't even reacted to learning he was on the Insight kill list... 

"Are they going to help us?" Natasha asked. 

The pause before Tony answered was too long. "I don't know. At least they might understand. I'll go get Cap." 

Steve made himself go limp and hoped his heart wasn't beating so fast that Tony or Nat could hear it. 

The nearest car door clicked as it opened. Cold metal hands slid under Steve's body. 

_The Iron Man suit._

But he could have sworn that Tony was not wearing the suit, could have sworn that both current Marks had been damaged— 

He came to rest against more metal. Pain lanced into his shoulder, as if something was trying to claw its way up his convulsing body. Dimly, he heard Tony's alarmed voice, but it was lost in pain as unconsciousness claimed him in truth. 

 

Tony shifted Steve's limp body so it lay over his left shoulder, leaving at least one hand – and one repulsor – free to defend them all. (That his left hand was, of necessity, cupping Steve's ass, was – of no consequence. Nor was it distracting at all.) 

_Please, let me not need to blast anyone._

He wasn't sure who he was pleading with. Certainly not God, who he didn't believe in, but maybe... would Odin look out for him? At least he knew that Odin actually existed in this time. 

Not a god, though; just an intelligence so advanced in power and so long-lived that maybe he could have an effect on the lives of his son's friends and the victims of his adopted son. If he wasn't currently at the other end of a broken Einstein-Rosen bridge. 

Maybe coming here wasn't the right decision but the alternatives looked much less promising; even, in some cases, disastrous, not just for him, Natasha and Steve, but for the world... the timeline. 

He did wish he had more time to think. He also wished that it was someone other than Steve who had been carrying the Stones, because there were still all those unresolved issues between them. Above all, he wished he could go home to Pepper and Morgan. 

He did not know if he could endure the pain of never seeing them again. 

_Are they even alive in this new timeline?_

That thought was unbearable. 

But he was also all too aware that Quantum Theory could not be reconciled with Relativity, the infinitesimal with the infinite. On the levels humanity and galaxies existed, space and time were intertwined and measurable, while at quantum levels of size, neither appeared to exist.

 _Maybe that's why magic does too. Just another field. But we are all nothing but field vibrations anyway._

Tony shivered, but forced his hand to be steady as he reached to ring the doorbell. 

 

The man who answered it was squat and powerful, with an expression that suggested the scum of the Earth had just rolled up on his doorstep. 

Instantly, Tony decided to leave the almost impossible task of charming him to Natasha. Instead, he just nodded a greeting, though having Steve's body draped over his shoulder couldn't have made a good first impression. At least the support from the nanite armour made carrying him possible – though that may not have helped their image either. 

Natasha took her cue from his silence. "Good evening," she said, with her best smile. "We've come to speak with your boss." 

"I am the Master and protector of the New York Sanctum," the man said repressively. "There is no 'boss' here." 

"Lady with a Kojak," Tony said. "Guardian of the Time Stone. An Infinity Stone. She should have it back now. But we'd still like to chat. Just exchange gossip about timelines and the end of the universe." 

The self-styled Master kept his silence for perhaps ten seconds longer, and then, just as Tony opened his mouth to speak again, he stepped back from the open door and ushered them into the lobby. Tony immediately recognised the staircase through which Bruce would crash at some time in the future and the leaded-light window above it. Not to mention the Cauldron of whatever. On the other hand, the room was more cluttered with glass cases than when he had last seen it, making it look like a museum. Though as what he did remember was a room that looked as if the Hulk had smashed it – though he hadn't, except for the stairs, and those by accident – so perhaps it was an unfair comparison. 

He had little time to sightsee, though, because the Master ushered them through double doors and into another room, this one more conventionally furnished in a vaguely Asiatic style. 

"Ancient One, your visitors," he said, and backed out. 

The robed figure standing at the window turned to face them. 

The woman was not, as Tony had expected, Chinese or Tibetan; her features were too angular, with no encephalic folds. Right now they were expressionless, but her eyes, green as the Time Stone, pale as her skin, were as cold as frost on grass. They were full of the pain of knowledge and, perhaps, an intellect that matched his own. 

Without waiting for permission, Tony eased Steve down onto a low couch, and Natasha moved to take up a defensive position in front of them both. 

The woman – the Ancient One? – ignored her, keeping her eyes fixed on Tony, unperturbed. Her voice, though, was strong and full of anger. "Do you realise what you have done?" 

He knew. Of course he knew. It had been twisting his guts ever since they had arrived in the lobby of Stark Tower, but all his instincts demanded deflection. "Returned the Time Stone to this time and place?" he suggested, waving a hand at the amulet that nested in the robes that weren't quite saffron, nor yet cream. "Which considering how I feel about magic and wizards – except Wong, I'll make an exception for Wong – is a tribute to my respect for Bruce..." He petered out under the Ancient One's unwavering gaze. 

"Yes," he said. "I'm not sure anyone else was aware of the consequences if we made a mistake except maybe Strange – and he wasn't there to warn us. Not that he would have, the bastard—" 

As he was speaking, the Ancient One shook back her sleeves and, palm outward, struck with the speed of a striking cobra at Tony's chest. 

Instantly, he ordered the nanites to form a shield to block her— 

Her hand passed right through it and hit his chest. 

He'd braced – but all he felt was a gentle pat. 

For the first time, the Ancient One showed emotion, and that emotion was shock, though she covered it quickly. 

"Well," she said, and stepped backwards. 

"Do that again," Natasha warned her, "and I'll make you regret it." 

Tony made a quick hand gesture, palm downward. 

_Cool it._

"What was that supposed to prove?" he asked, one eyebrow raised sardonically. 

"It was supposed," the Ancient One said, "to push your soul onto the Astral Plane. Returning would have been reliant on your answers to my questions being satisfactory." 

"We've been stranger places than the Astral Plane," Natasha said. 

The Ancient One ignored that. "I warned Doctor Banner about the possible consequences to the timestream of taking the Infinity Stones into the future. I trusted him. It appears I was wrong." 

"The way he tells it, you trusted Stephen Strange," Tony retorted. "I made _that_ mistake. And I had less excuse. I'd actually met the bastard." 

The Ancient One was now watching him with intense curiosity. "Dr Banner told me something I knew could not be true. Yet he plainly believed it. I thought— Was it Strange who told you the Infinity Stones had been destroyed in your future?" 

_And how was that for a distracting non sequitur?_ Tony shook his head. "He was dead by then." 

"Thanos himself told us," Natasha said. "Before Thor killed him. He used the Stones to destroy themselves." 

"And you believed him?" It was said mildly enough but it was a question that plainly shocked Natasha. 

"We saw the Infinity Gauntlet," she pointed out. "It had melted and the Stones were gone. Thanos mocked us, told us we could never restore half the universe because the Stones no longer existed." 

"If that had been the case, he would have been right. But when Dr Banner came to ask me to lend him the Eye – the Time Stone – because the Infinity Stones had been destroyed in the future, I knew that, though he believed it, he was wrong. I still had the Time Stone, so that, at least, still existed, even if it could not be found in the future. I presumed the same was true of the others." 

"Oh, wait, wait, wait. I'm so _stupid._ " Tony's rising voice reflected the horror of the revelation. "Wong told me the Infinity Stones are singularities. If an Infinity Stone has a quantum existence and just manifests as a Stone in Space-Time, its destruction would affect every instant, every location..." 

"It is not how a Sorcerer would explain it, but essentially correct." 

"But the Soul Stone exists on Vormir right now," Natasha protested. "Clint has – will – take it to our future—" 

"Not in this timeline," Tony said. 

The Ancient One was nodding. "So the Soul Stone is destroyed – or at least shattered." 

Tony was staring at her. "You know what happened." 

"As the Eye returned to me, a magical event rocked this universe and split it into two timestreams. That was twice in one day. This one was so strong that every adept in related time-paths would have felt it. I admit I was shaken enough to have to recover my wits before using the Eye to discover what happened. 

"When I did so, I saw your friend materialising at Stark Tower, alone. But almost before he drew breath, the case he was carrying exploded, you both appeared from nowhere, and the Time Stone had simultaneously fallen into my hand. The Soul Stone, however, had shattered. I heard your conversation and saw you collect some of the pieces. That was the Event. And you caused it. Somehow." 

"Not intentionally," Tony said, after another too-lengthy pause. He went on the attack. "You say you can use the Time Stone to see these things, so you know the answers already." 

"I know little more than I have told you. But the future of this branch of the time stream is not what it was before, and new possibilities are opening at every moment. And you came here for my help." For the first time, the Ancient One looked at where Steve lay unconscious on the couch. "Firstly, we will do our best to look after your friend, and then—" 

With breathtaking suddenness, Mjolnir shot from where it was lying at Steve's side, dragging him by the loop through his belt towards the nearest wall. Tony and Natasha, as one, threw themselves after him as the Ancient One raised her hands and shouted words that neither of them understood, even before the sounds themselves began to lengthen and deepen, as if a recording was slowing almost to a stop. The hammer speed faltered along with the Ancient One's words though it remained airborne – and so did Steve. That enabled Tony to reach for Steve's belt and pull it away from his body, so Natasha, who had produced a knife from somewhere – had Tony imagined her into existence with hidden knives or had she done that herself? – slashed through the leather. 

Mjolnir jerked free. Steve tumbled to the floor as Tony deliberately slid forward and under him. The Ancient One's voice stumbled to a halt. The Hammer picked up speed, crashed through the window and was gone. 

"Is Steve all right?" Natasha demanded. Then, when Tony did not reply immediately, "Are you? Tony?" 

It took Tony a few more seconds to gain enough breath to reply. "Fine. Winded. Check Steve." 

With her always-surprising strength, Natasha rolled Steve off Tony's chest and felt his neck for a pulse, then rolled up an eyelid. "Seems okay. Still out cold." 

Tony propped himself up on his elbows, and saw that the Ancient One was sitting on the floor a few feet away, one hand clasping the amulet containing the Time Stone, the other pressed to her forehead. He caught Natasha's eye and nodded towards the Ancient One, even as the nanites swarmed over his back, down his legs and up his arms. 

Nat returned his nod, rose gracefully to her feet in one smooth motion – how did she do that? – and crossed to the seated woman. "Can I help?" she asked, offering her hand. 

The Ancient One took it and allowed herself to be helped to her feet. "That was... interesting," she remarked. "I have never encountered something so resistant to the power of the Time Stone before. It was powerful magic." 

"Asgardian magic," Tony said, as he lifted Steve in his arms. "Thor must have called his hammer. Which, unfortunately, exists in two versions right now. The god of thunder and lightning is going to get a different kind of shock when a duplicate turns up." He chuckled. "Oh, I wish I could be there to see his face..." 

It was only then that the memory of Thor as he would be today, as he had been at the Battle of New York made him catch his breath. It was such a dreadful contrast to Thor as he had been in the days of their defeat. But Thor had an excuse. He had lost everything but still, at the last, fought for others. Tony knew how easy it was to turn to alcohol for comfort. Luckily, for him, he'd always had someone, be it his mother, Edwin and Ana Jarvis, Rhodey or Pepper... He'd never lost everything... 

Until now. 

The armour encased him then, and he locked the elbows and knee joints so that he would not drop the man in his arms, the man who had also lost everything, and now, because of Tony himself, had probably lost everything twice over. 

A new timeline. 

_Oh God, how different had their actions made it? How different would they make it in the future?_

"Tony." Natasha had a hand on his arm. 

_Without me she would still be dead._

The thought anchored him even as he watched the Ancient One repair the broken window with a wave of her hand. 

"What is Thor's reaction likely to be when a second hammer arrives," she asked now. "Will he be able to trace it here?" 

"I don't know," Tony admitted. "Loki's the magician, but Thor's attuned to the hammer." 

"And there's always Heimdal. He apparently saw – sees – everything," Natasha added. 

"Can he still? With the Bifrost broken?" 

"Point. I have no idea." 

"Will Thor detect a glamour?" the Ancient One asked. 

"Loki's always fool him," Natasha said after a slight hesitation.

"Then ours should too." 

"Ancient One?" The Master of the Sanctum stood in the doorway, as unperturbed as ever. 

"We may soon have a Thunder God at our door, so we need to relocate these people," she told him decisively. "I don't want to endanger the students at Karma-Taj, and they would be even more noticeable in Hong Kong, so we'll take them to the London sanctum. Please request that all the Masters of the Mystic Arts meet us there in three hours. This is something we need to discuss." 

"Yes, Ancient One." 

"And have the library searched for everything we know about the Infinity Stones, the multiverse and alternate timelines. We also need a medical doctor." 

"Thank you," Tony said quietly. "Cap has a healing factor, but it doesn't seem to the working right now." 

"Captain America's shield is still in the SUV," Natasha pointed out. "I don't know if Steve will be bothered by the loss of the hammer— 

"Only in that it has to be returned to Asgard with the Reality Stone," Tony put in. 

"—but he is rather attached to his shield," she finished, with a significant look at Tony. 

Tony snorted. But he remembered the look on Steve's face as he returned it to him and remained otherwise silent.

The Ancient One turned to the Master. "Collect it, and bring it to London." 

He nodded. "As you order, Sorcerer Supreme." 

"And you two, follow me." 

 

They arrived in what was, presumably, the London Sanctum, by portal, though, as Tony remarked, at least the Ancient One was polite about asking them to step through and therefore much to be preferred to Strange's portal-side manner. 

This Sanctum was apparently older than that in New York. The walls beside a huge fireplace seemed to have been repaired by Roman brick and the door jambs were rough-hewn stone. Its resident Master was a genial African who ushered them into a bedroom where Tony was able to lay Steve down on a bed. He and Natasha stripped him of his armour and tucked him in without another word between them. There was no longer a wound or even a scar on his shoulder, though blood stained the armour and the undershirt he wore beneath it. 

A doctor – not Strange – was said to be on their way, though no one would tell them from where. 

Steve showed no signs of returning to consciousness, except occasionally writhing in pain. 

Tony had now moved from wondering what he was going to say to Steve when he woke up to worrying that he was not going to wake up at all. Natasha, with a maternal instinct that Tony could have sworn she didn't have, was stroking Steve's forehead and making soothing noises, but none of that seemed to be helping. Tony didn't understand his own reaction, which was a strange mixture of surprise, compassion and scorn plus something he was not prepared to examine too closely, but which might have been anger or... envy? 

_I'm married to the most wonderful woman I've ever met. We have a kid who means the world to both of us. They make me happy. I love them both so very much... They think I'm dead. Hell, I was dead. And we're in a different time stream. I may never see them again..._

These dismal thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of tea – hot and sweet – and soup; consommé for Tony, borsht for Natasha, followed by noodles with chicken and vegetables. Neither felt hungry, but they knew better than to refuse the gift of food when it was needed. With the first mouthful, they suddenly realised how much they needed to eat, and wolfed the lot in record time. It was an odd meal, but it seemed to be just what they needed. Tony, who professed not to like any kind of tea, was coaxing a last half cup out of the big pot when there was a bustle at the door, and the Ancient One entered in company with a brown-skinned woman in her thirties, with her hair tied back in a long plait, and the red dot of a married Hindu woman on her forehead. She was also carrying the proverbial medic's black bag, though it was not as proverbially little. 

"This is your patient," the Ancient One said, completely ignoring the presence of Tony and Natasha. "He was involved in an explosion that was both physical and mystical. He has been unconscious since then." 

"He seems to be in pain," Natasha put in. 

"He has a healing factor in his DNA," Tony said. "It's still working because he was hit by what was probably a piece of shrapnel from the explosion. There was blood on his clothing – his shoulder – but even the scar is gone." 

"If what is causing this is physical, I will find it," the doctor said. "If not, then our friend here will have to apply her 'heal the spirit to heal the body' philosophy' though it will be interesting to see her attempt it on an unconscious man." 

"Most things are possible in the Mirror Dimension," the Ancient One replied with the first hint of a smile that Tony had seen. 

"Sorcerer Supreme?" the man who had brought their food was standing in the doorway. 

"Yes, Lin?" 

"The Masters are gathered." 

"Stay here and assist the doctor as needed," the Ancient One said before turning to Tony and Natasha. "We must go to the meeting. Your friend is safe in these hands; I give you my word in this." 

Natasha looked hard at both the Doctor and Lin. "Call us if he shows any signs of waking up." 

Tony nodded. "Do you know magic Kung Fu?" he asked, with as much seriousness as he could manage. "Captain Rogers has a history of violence. He'll be looking to complete his mission but he can't do that, because I have everything he needs for it. Point that out to him, if you have to. But dodge. Please." 

 

As they left the room, the Ancient One said, casually, "So you have stolen his time travel device." 

"Nope. Retrieved it. After all, I made it. Well, part of it. I don't do shrinkage." Tony gestured towards the open doors, through which he could hear the babble of voices. "Shall we?" 

This time the Ancient One's smile was wide and real. "Indeed. I am looking forward to hearing the whole story." 

"So am I," Natasha muttered. 

 

All speech stopped as Tony and Natasha entered behind the Ancient One. The dozen or so men and women gathered in the room were mostly dressed in a variation of short robes over wide pants, though one woman was in shorts and tee, and two of the men were dressed in business suits. Tony looked for the crimson cloak with the personality as worn by Strange, but did not see it. 

Of those present, about half were already seated in the circle of leather and tapestry armchairs, but now the others quickly took seats, leaving a blue chaise free. 

The Ancient One led them to it, gestured for them to sit, and faced the company. 

She said: "This is Anthony Stark – Iron Man – and Natasha Romanoff, sometimes known as the Black Widow, but they are not exactly the people you saw defending New York today. This afternoon, Dr Bruce Banner, who was also not exactly the Hulk, came to me from the future to borrow the Eye of Agamotto. For reasons that seemed good to me at the time, I agreed. Moments later, the Eye was returned, but at the same instant an event occurred that caused a major split in the timeline." 

There was much muttering around the table and angry glares directed at the Ancient One as well as at Tony and Natasha. 

"Hold your judgment until you hear the whole story," the Ancient One advised. "Mr Stark." 

Tony rose to his feet. He had made his decision: he would speak nothing but the truth about what had happened, though he might withhold some details. Though he might not have notes, cards or an electronic prompter, he had done this before, so many times. He simply imagined he was in an Avengers' briefing. "Okay. Listen up. The battle that took place in New York today was not just against the Chitauri and Loki: it was the opening salvo in a greater war. Loki was promised the rule of Earth in exchange for an Infinity Stone – the Space Stone, known here as the Tesseract – which had been in possession of Hydra during World War Two. Later it came into the hands of the US government and SHIELD.

"Loki was lent another Infinity Stone, the Mind Stone, disguised as a sceptre, to help him conquer Earth. The mastermind behind it was a powerful alien warlord called Thanos, and within the next six years Thanos had accomplished his aim, to create what he thought of as 'balance' by killing half the living things in the entire universe using an Infinity Gauntlet containing all six Stones..." 

 

When Steve came back to consciousness, it was to the sound of voices, and to pain. That had shifted. It was now at the front of his chest, just beneath his collarbone. He was used to enduring pain; it was the one thing that had remained constant in his life before and after Project Rebirth. Pushing it to one side, he listened in on the conversation. 

A woman was speaking, her accent English but with an unexpected intonation that he thought he ought to recognise. "Tell his friends that I have examined him thoroughly. I can find no physical reason for his continuing unconsciousness. He is not in a coma, but in very deep sleep. This may be an effect of the healing factor he is said to possess. He is, however, in pain. The seat of that seems to be moving, though my scans detect nothing." 

A man's voice, with a different accent, though still in English: "Is that possible – within the terms of modern scientific medicine, that is?" 

"No." 

"I have noticed," the man said, hesitantly, "that he seems to be in more pain when his friends are with him. Perhaps there is a reason." 

"If so, it is probably more your field than mine." 

"I'll give the Sorcerer Supreme your diagnosis – and open a portal for you in the garden." 

"Thank you, but shouldn't you do it here? I don't think you are supposed to leave him." 

"I'll be back within a couple of minutes. The Master prefers us not to use Sling Rings inside the Sanctum unless necessary. Now, if you will come with me..." 

 

Once he heard the door close, Steve climbed out of bed. 

Mjolnir was gone, along with the Pym Particles and his wrist device, though his shield was lying on top of what remained of the armour Tony had designed for their journeys through the Quantum Realm. 

How had they moved the hammer? 

_Is Thor here too?_

He hoped not. 

Perhaps he ought to try to call Mjolnir to him. Only then it was likely that both hammers would turn up and it would end with Thor arriving... and he wasn't on particularly good terms with Thor at this point in the past. The Stones and the devices he needed to travel through the Quantum Realm were a much higher priority 

As quickly as he could with the pain slowing him, he donned the armour and picked up the shield. As he slid it into its accustomed place on his back, the door opened. Steve stilled, hand still on the edge of the shield. By a stroke of good fortune, it was opening towards him, so that it blocked the view of both Steve and the bed from anyone entering. 

The thought that Tony or Natasha might be coming through the door stayed Steve's hand. He let go of the shield that he would not use against fellow Avengers, and dropped into a fighting stance. 

The intruder was not Tony, at least; he was twice as wide and, well, bald, and he braked to a stop when he spotted the empty bed, his back still to Steve. It was the work of a moment to grab him in a choke hold and render him unconscious. 

But it took Steve too long to catch his own breath afterwards. By the time he had it under control his victim was showing signs of returning consciousness. Pulling himself together, he grabbed the pillows from the bed, pulled off the pillowcases and ripped them up, using the first length to gag his victim and the next to bind his hands. 

Even as he finished pulling the last knot tight, the man's legs came up, kicking for his groin. Steve twisted to block with his thigh. The man avoided contact and spun his way to his feet. Steve had seen films where people did something similar, but had always assumed it was a special effect. Now he realised he was facing an all-too-real martial artist. 

Well, one way to deal with that. 

He charged, changing direction as his opponent skipped aside, and, stretching out an arm, grabbed a handful of tunic and hauled him in. They crashed to the floor together. 

As planned, being crushed under Steve's weight drove the air out of the man's chest, air he couldn't regain through his mouth with the gag still in place. It left him breathing desperately quickly, weakening him enough to enable Steve to pull off his wide-legged pants and use them to bind his legs. 

Satisfied that the man was no longer a threat to his mission, Steve finished searching the room – he found nothing – then headed out the door. 

Time to find the rest of his gear. 

Beyond the bedroom was a long hall, panelled in wood and lit by pools of soft light from table lamps but also containing deep shadows. The effect was almost gothic, as if it had been there for many years. 

There was no sign of life, not even a houseplant or a vase of flowers. 

The door closed behind him without any detectable noise and his feet were silent on the thick carpet. 

Every door was shut. He could start opening them, but that might mean discovery and once again having to hurt people who had done no harm. It was unlikely that whoever had the Infinity Stones, the Pym Particles and the wrist controller (not to mention Mjolnir) would let them out of his or her sight – particularly if that person were Tony. But if it wasn't Tony, and if he could find whoever-that-was, he might be able to negotiate them back. 

Maybe. 

He began to make his way methodically along the corridor, pausing at each door to listen for voices. When he reached double doors carved with symbols he did not recognise, he finally heard the murmur of voices. He leaned his head against the wood, and words became clear. 

"Most unfortunate," a deep male voice was saying. 

"I don't know what talents you have as a magician, but you certainly have one for understatement." It sounded like Natasha. 

And there was a snort of laughter, quickly suppressed, that was so very Tony that it twisted Steve's heart. 

Pain stabbed his chest again, greying his vision. It was an odd sort of grey, though, more like the smogs of his early life, in New York and later London, tinged with orange. 

He shook his head, hoping to clear it, and concentrated on the conversation. 

"...your fault," another male voice was saying, indicating he had missed something, though whether a few words or a larger number of sentences he could not say. "At least you are still around to help deal with the consequences." 

There was a ripple of rather tense laughter, which ended abruptly as someone cleared their throat. 

"So what do the texts say of the Soul Stone?" a woman's voice asked. 

"Despite the name, it has a bad reputation. Agamotto himself wrote that 'The Soul gem is said to devour souls. Something terrible, that legend calls Devondra, lives at the heart of it, and it may be that that is what devours the souls trapped within.'" 

Once again, greyness threatened to overcome Steve, but this time it was from that truth... oh god, if that was true... Natasha. His Natasha, who was also who the Natasha listening to this would become, was doomed to worse than death on Vormir... 

And then there was Tony. What had happened to his soul when he had died in the future? Suppose the Soul Stone had... 

_No. I will not believe that. But, oh, God, Nat._

Sickened, he turned away. 

These people plainly knew more about the Infinity Stones than he did, which was presumably why this Tony and Natasha had brought him – and probably them – here. This made sense of their talk of 'magicians' so this was almost certainly Strange's Sanctum which, he now recalled, was in Greenwich Village. Strange wouldn't be here yet, but his predecessor, the Ancient One, would. 

Bruce – in his new Hulk form – had had to resort to reason and Strange's prophecy to get the Ancient One to lend him the Time Stone. If Hulk couldn't defeat her, what chance did he have in this debilitated state, of defeating a room full of Stranges? 

And how had this time's Nat and Tony known about this place? 

No one had told _him_ about a band of powerful wizards after the battle of New York, even during a memorably rowdy discussion about _The Lord of the Rings_ vs _Harry Potter._

And hadn't Tony said he didn't believe in magic? 

Never mind that. If this time's Tony had taken possession of his temporal device, the Pym particles and the Infinity Stones, he would not rest until he understood them. And if anyone in this time could figure them out it was their very own genius billionaire. After all, he'd done it once already. Except if he tried to pick up one of the Stones... 

That would be disastrous, perhaps to the whole universe. 

_We were told we couldn't change the past or the future. Except I have. Or someone has._

What he had just overheard changed everything. 

_I need help. I can't defeat the wizards plus Tony and Nat and can't act against any of today's Avengers. It's all very well for Tony to decide to give himself a minor heart attack, but every time I think about it I go cold with fear. Suppose it had gone wrong?_

He pushed himself away from the wall. 

Which way? He didn't think the wizards would have been so stupid as not to set some kind of magical alarm system or even a ... what did they call it? Fence? Ward? There was little hope of getting away at street level without being spotted. But out of one of the top floor windows, or the roof? Time to do a little exploring. 

 

Now the barrage of questions had finally died away, the Ancient One turned her compelling eyes on Tony. "There is one detail you haven't covered. Your friend was carrying the Stones. Where are they now?" 

"C'mon, Zatanna, you already know." 

"Perhaps. Are you afraid I will attempt take the three Stones you carry from you? No, Mr Stark, the Time Stone is already too much of a burden. I do not envy you." 

"I have no intention of using the Stones," Tony said quickly. "One experience was enough, thank you. They should be returned to the place and time they were taken from." 

_Though I'm fucked if I know how._

"I've already returned the Time Stone to you and the Mind Stone to Loki's Sceptre which is hidden at Stark Tower," he continued. "We'll need to retrieve Mjolnir at some point; it must be returned to Asgard along with the Reality Stone. For that you need someone who is worthy to wield it – the hammer, not the Stone. Which is why they sent Cap and why we'll need him. Or Thor. But I really don't want to talk to Thor right now. Things are complicated enough." 

"The Avengers were wise not to send Thor," Natasha said 

Tony snorted. "Maybe, but I'm still not sure why Steve was alone and carrying all six Infinity Stones through the Quantum Realm. It's not what I would have advised. Although he couldn't have anticipated the Soul Stone exploding at his first stop." 

A ripple of amusement ran round the circle of wizards. 

It was Natasha who interrupted it. "Wasn't – what's his name? Lin? – supposed to be updating us on Steve's condition?" 

"He was," the Ancient One said, seemingly unconcerned, but she rose to her feet in a swirl of robes. "We all need to think carefully about what is to be done and how it can be done. Ring for tea. We shall be back shortly." She signalled to Tony and Natasha to follow her and swept out of the room. 

 

Steve stood balanced on a mansard roof overlooking a narrow city street, gleaming wet under the yellow steet lights, though rain was no longer falling. There were skyscrapers on the horizon, brightly lit against a cloudy night sky, vaguely familiar, but not those of any American city he knew. And certainly not New York. He turned, and saw a floodlit grey dome that had once been a symbol of hope amid fire and chaos, now rising amid clusters of what were plainly office buildings, with a few spires, also lit from below, standing above a maze of streets that looked nothing like the familiar grid of New York. Beyond it, he knew, was a grey-brown river, bridges crossing it every quarter mile or so. He had last been here to bury the woman he had loved, the one he had hoped to meet again in the past. 

He was in London. 

And perhaps that was also reason for hope.


End file.
